


Not Half Bad

by samame



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Asthma, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-15
Updated: 2012-12-15
Packaged: 2017-11-21 06:21:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/594467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samame/pseuds/samame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Pre-movie] Steve suffers an asthma attack and Bucky is there to talk him through it and what it means to be weak.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Half Bad

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kikibug13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kikibug13/gifts).



"Anyone sitting here?"

Steve looked up to see a girl smiling down at him. She was holding a cup of punch, her dark hair swept to the side over the shoulder of her bright red dress. 

"Sure," he said, giving her a small smile. Though a moment later he realized that sure isn't really the kind of answer that she wanted, or that he wanted to give. His smile thinned in embarrassment. "I mean, no. Go ahead."

"Thank you," she said, sitting down beside him and taking a sip of her drink. He could smell her perfume from where he was sitting. A sweet rose water that seemed to drift over them like a cloud. 

"It sure is cold outside," she said, resting her cup in the palm of her hand as her eyes moved over the crowd on the makeshift dance floor.

"Yeah, it sure is," Steve said a little awkwardly as he dragged his suddenly sweaty palms up the worn fabric of his pants. She was pretty. Actually, all the girls at these church dances were pretty. Bucky said it was God's way of trying to get his attention. He followed her gaze towards the dance floor and almost immediately locked eyes with Bucky, slow dancing with a girl. He grinned, waggling his eyebrows slightly.

Steve's gaze narrowed as he gave a slight shake of his head. Bucky nodded almost imperceptibly towards the girl before leaning down to whisper something in his partner's ear. Steve watched the girl blush, ducking her head against Bucky's chest.

"Did you come with him?" The girl beside Steve asked, causing him to look over at her.

"Oh, yeah. We're roommates." She smiled and he smiled in return. There weren't actually many girls who talked to him when Bucky wasn't around. Not unless they --

"Is that his girl?"

\-- wanted to chat him up about Bucky. He sighed and looked back towards Bucky and the girl. "Nope."

"Has he got a girl?"

_One for every borough in New York._ Steve coughed, picking up his jacket beside him and began pulling it on. "No."

"Good." She took another sip and eyed him as he began buttoning up his jacket. "Are you leaving?" 

He had to give her credit for actually sounding a little disappointed, even if he knew it was just because she wanted him to put in a good word for her. "I think it's time," he said, flashing her a small smile. "Have a good night."

"You too and Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas." He moved his way through the edges of the dance floor towards the doors of the rec center, only to be stopped by a tug on his jacket a few feet away from them.

"Where do you think you're going?" Bucky asked, pulling him short.

Steve sighed, sticking his hands in his pockets. "Home."

"Have you even danced? You know, that's what people are supposed to do at dances, not prop up the wall." Bucky slapped a hand on his shoulder. "What about that one girl?"

"Oh, yeah," Steve said, raising his eyebrows. "She was really interested."

Bucky's face lit up as he squeezed his shoulder. "There you go!"

"In you." 

Bucky lets out a slow huff, somehow managing to look both pleased and annoyed at the same time. "I'll ask Sandra if she has a friend."

"Don't bother."

"Steve-- " 

"I'm tired," Steve said, meeting Bucky's eyes. It wasn't entirely a lie. He'd woken up with a fever and a hacking cough that morning and hadn't completely recovered before Bucky had dragged him here.

Bucky's eyes narrowed in concern. "You running hot again?"

"I'm _fine_ ," Steve said, brushing off an outstretched hand that looked like it was dangerously close to feeling his forehead. 

"Bucky?" The both of them looked up as Bucky's partner appeared beside him. Bucky's demeanor changed immediately, an easy smile moving into place. 

"Just a minute, darlin'." The girl, Steve guessed that was Sandra, smiled in return and nodded. Bucky turned back to Steve. "Give me five minutes."

"Bucky--"

"Five minutes," Bucky said, giving him a small grin. "Look at her, Steve. She's gorgeous. Five minutes with an angel, that's all I'm asking."

Steve gave a weary sigh. "Okay. Five minutes." He pressed his lips together, his eyes shining a little. "That's probably how long it'll take her to figure out the last person an angel should be talking to is you."

Bucky chuckled, reaching up and mussing Steve's hair affectionately. "Seven, if I'm lucky." Steve watched as he moved back to Sandra, wrapping an easy arm around her shoulder.

"Is your little brother okay?" Steve heard her ask as they moved back towards the dance floor. It was a mistake a lot of people made, even though they didn't exactly look a like and Steve was actually the older one. Almost by eighteen months exactly. Maybe people just found it hard to believe that someone like Bucky would hang around with a guy that looked like Steve by choice.

Five minutes turned into ten and then ten into fifteen. Steve made his way around the dance floor hoping to catch Bucky's eye again, but he couldn't find him. Eventually he decided he'd waited long enough and began the trek home alone.

The center wasn't far from their apartment, but the wind had picked up since they'd been inside and it was snowing freely now. He hadn't gotten to the end of the block before his hat and jacket had a sticking settling of fresh snow over them. By the time he got to the third block he could feel the cold seeping through his thin coat and scarf and into his chest.

The next block over was crowded with people watching billows of smoke pouring out of what used to be a store front for a cigar shop. He watched the burly firemen as they hammered their way in and pulled out the owner and his wife in their bed clothes shouting at one another the whole time. The air was thick with the mixture of smoke and excitement. Steve turned away from the scene as a cough wracked his body, leaving him breathless and weary. The crowd had begun to break up and Steve followed their lead, walking the last block to the apartment a little slower and wearier than before. 

Any hope that the place was warmer on the inside than the outside was shattered as he slipped inside the door and started up the stairs. The apartment house was freezing, cold enough to see his breath when he pushed his scarf from his nose and mouth and patted down the snow from his shoulders, though the sounds of kids playing and even the echoing warble of someone singing Christmas Carols went a long way in warming him from the inside out.

By the time he reached their landing he was almost completely out of breath, his lungs catching and seizing up on him as he patted down his jacket for the key. Another vicious succession of coughs went through him as he unlocked the door, leaving him light headed and unsteady.

He took some deep breaths, trying to force the air down into his lungs, but the very distinct impression that someone was sitting on his chest and attempting to crush all the air of them only increased. Panic began to set in as shaking hands moved to unbutton the top button of his coat and tug at his collar.

He needed air. Instead he was hit with another coughing spasm. This one vicious enough to send him to his knees and bringing up unwanted thoughts about his mother and the cough she couldn't shake. Spots danced across his vision as he braced his weight on shaky arms and tried to catch his breath. 

He didn't hear the footsteps on the stairs, or even on the landing. In fact he wasn't even aware that Bucky was there until he heard his voice behind him.

"Five minutes, Steve, that's all I--" Bucky's voice cut off and the next moment a snow powdered arm was around his shoulders, pulling him back into a sitting position. "Hey, it's alright. I've got you."

Steve was wheezing now, every breath catching in his throat and causing tears to spring to his eyes as he struggled to get some air down. Bucky's hands moved quickly and deftly, pulling away his scarf and unbuttoning Steve's jacket completely before freeing more buttons on his shirt. Steve was vaguely aware of Bucky shifting behind him and then he was being pulled back even further against the warm solidness of Bucky's chest, Bucky's legs settling on either side of him.

His heart was hammering as his chest tightened like a vice. He fought against it, though he was losing the war against the panic as he balled his hands in the fabric of Bucky's pants just above the knees.

"Steve, relax." It was said low, but forcefully into his ear, the warmth of Bucky's hand suddenly on his chest, anchoring him. "It's okay. We'll get through this together."

Steve tried to do as he was told, his whole body shaking with the effort to relax. To calm down, but the pressure wasn't letting up. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to focus, taking a stuttering breath that caught and hitched in his throat, choking him.

"Steve," Bucky said, his voice near pleading as his arm tightened around him. "Breathe with me." He could hear the deep breath Bucky took, feel his chest expand at his back and then dip as he let it out.

"Come on," Bucky murmured, repeating the process. Deep breath in, soft sigh out. Steve's brow furrowed in concentration as he focused on the rise and fall of Bucky's chest behind him. "You're going to be fine. Just breathe with me." More deep breaths. "I know it hurts, but we'll get through it together."

Steve felt a chill move through him as the cold air of the unheated apartment slowly made it's way back into his lungs. His fingers loosened their death grip as he slowly, painfully regained his breath.

"There you go," Bucky said, sighing with relief and momentarily dipping his head against Steve's neck. Steve opened his eyes at the soft brush of Bucky's breath against his cheek. The spots were gone and his breathing was evening out as the wheeze faded. He felt the panic of before draining from him and leaving behind a bitter frustration.

He released his grip on Bucky's pants, leaving behind a wrinkled mess of fabric at his knees. He wiped at his eyes with his sleeve and swallowed. "I'm all right," he said slowly.

Bucky didn't move, his arm still wrapped tightly around Steve, his hand splayed out on his chest.

"Bucky," Steve repeated, unable to bring himself to look at the other man. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine, you almost--"

This time Steve pushed against the hand that was holding him in place, somehow managing to get unsteadily to his feet. He moved into the kitchen, an unsteady hand striking a match and lighting the small stove in the corner.

He kept his back to Bucky as he pretended to warm his hands. 

"Sit down and take it easy, will you?" Bucky said at his back.

"I'm fine," Steve repeated, but this time he glanced over his shoulder and met Bucky's eyes. He looked about as shaken up as Steve felt and Steve felt his resolve falter. 

Reluctantly he sat down in a chair at the kitchen table, though he told himself he wasn't going to make the same mistake of looking at Bucky again. He traced a worn grove in the wooden table with his finger.

Bucky dropped into the chair beside him. Steve didn't have to look at Bucky to feel his best friend's eyes on him.

"What?" Bucky asked and Steve reached up to ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head.

"I can make you tell me," Bucky said, his voice sounding weary. Steve heard his chair creak as he leaned closer. "But I don't think either of us is up for that right now."

"I just…" Steve let out a frustrated sigh from a chest that still felt too tight for comfort. "I hate being so weak."

"Steve, you're not weak." The conviction behind that statement was startling. Steve looked over at Bucky in surprise, only feeling it grow when he saw the almost angry look on his face.

"I almost got taken out by a flight of stairs," Steve said dryly, though he attempted a small smile. Bucky didn't take the bait, his face darkening instead.

"You're not weak," Bucky said forcefully, his brow furrowing as he stared Steve down. "You're the strongest person I know."

"Bucky, come on--" Steve said, dragging his eyes away.

"You stand up for yourself, don't you? You stand up for what's right, even if you're 90 pounds soaking wet. Even if you got a dozen guys waiting to bash your face in for speaking up." Bucky leaned in close, not allowing Steve to look away. "There's nothing weak about that."

"Cut it out," Steve said back angrily, sitting up a little straighter. "You know what I mean."

"Steve, listen to me," Bucky said, reaching out and gripping his arm. Maybe he was trying to keep him from moving away, or maybe he was trying to make a point. Either way, the feel of Bucky's warmth and the strength behind his grip grounded him. "You're right. There's a ton of guys out there who are a lot stronger than you. They don't have to worry about fevers or asthma or a dozen other things you do, but none of them have got what you've got."

"Yeah?" Steve said doubtfully, studying Bucky's face. "And what's that?"

Bucky reached out and clapped the side of his face lightly, fondly. There was a mild look of exasperation in his expression. "They don't have your heart, stupid."

Steve's heart seemed to agree as he felt his chest tighten even further, in a way that had nothing to do with his physical weakness. After a long moment he smiled slowly. "You know, I really thought you were going to say you?"

Bucky gave a small shrug, some of the seriousness draining from his expression, but not his eyes which didn't leave Steve's. "Well, they don't have that going for them either."

Steve gave a small laugh and Bucky withdrew his hand, pushing himself to his feet. "Now, if you're done giving me a heart attack. I'm beat and you look about ready to fall over."

Steve nodded, taking Bucky's outstretched hand and allowing Bucky to pull him to his feet. The attack had left him feeling weary and worn. Crawling into bed and sleeping it off sounded like the best course of action by far.

He stumbled a little, bumping against Bucky's chest and felt Bucky's arm slide around him to steady him. He looked up with the intention of apologizing and without a word, or a warning, Bucky lowered his forehead against Steve’s and closed his eyes, their faces so close together that their noses brushed each other lightly. Steve could feel Bucky’s steady breath warming his own in the cold apartment. Steve froze, not wanting to break the intimate moment. 

"Try not to scare me like that again," Bucky said, his voice low.

"Sorry," Steve said back, still stunned by their sudden closeness. Bucky opened his eyes and sighed.

"You owe me. In fact, you know the Cyclone? At Coney Island. Next time we're there…" Steve tilted his mouth up to meet Bucky's.

The kiss was soft and tentative. He worried that he might be doing it all wrong, it was clear that Bucky had more experience at this than he did, but he couldn't bring himself to break it. He was afraid of what might happen afterwards.

Bucky was the one that pulled away first, his expression nearly unreadable with half hooded eyes. He paused for a long moment before a small smirk crept over his mouth. "You know, that wasn't half bad. For an amateur."

Steve let out a small huff, feeling warmth move into his face. "I don't know. I thought you'd be a lot better."

And before he could get out another word, Bucky was kissing him again.


End file.
